


Sunshine and Honey

by the_problem_with_stardust



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Recreational Wolfsbane Use, Sharing a Bed, Spanish Translation, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Translation Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-03 05:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16319774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_problem_with_stardust/pseuds/the_problem_with_stardust
Summary: In the end, it was Kira who managed to break Derek’s resolve. Stiles didn’t know why he was surprised. She was a badass trickster kitsune after all. And a member of the extremely tight friend group he liked to jokingly refer to as ‘the three musketeers.’ The first time Derek heard the title, he’d looked torn between smirking and scowling. Kira just fist bumped Boyd, then started talking about getting matching leather jackets. The three had clicked sometime after high school graduation and were pretty much inseparable.So, through the power of friendship (and adorable puppy eyes), Kira convinced Derek to reveal the recipe for wolfsbane liquor. It was a secret that Derek refused to share because he was a responsible alpha. Or so he claimed. But now that everyone was twenty-one, Kira wanted to have a proper birthday celebration.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ravenwolf36](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenwolf36/gifts).



> For the lovely @ravenwolf36 who is one of the nicest people I have ever interacted with. Thank you so so much for your patience (and I am so sorry this took fifty years). I’m incredibly glad you stumbled across my blog ❤️
> 
> For the prompts: (8) _“There’s only one bed.”_ and (9) _“You don’t remember last night at all, do you?”_
> 
> EDIT: Now translated into Spanish by the amazing [lbp98l](https://www.wattpad.com/user/lbp98l) on wattpad [HERE!](https://www.wattpad.com/story/174139361-sunshine-and-honey)

In the end, it was Kira who managed to break Derek’s resolve. Stiles didn’t know why he was surprised. She was a badass trickster kitsune after all. And a member of the extremely tight friend group he liked to jokingly refer to as ‘the three musketeers.’ The first time Derek heard the title, he’d looked torn between smirking and scowling. Kira just fist bumped Boyd, then started talking about getting matching leather jackets. The three had clicked sometime after high school graduation and were pretty much inseparable.

So, through the power of friendship (and adorable puppy eyes), Kira convinced Derek to reveal the recipe for wolfsbane liquor. It was a secret that Derek refused to share because he was a responsible alpha. Or so he claimed. But now that everyone was twenty-one, Kira wanted to have a proper birthday celebration.

“Are you going to help me carry these or are you just going to stand there looking pretty?” Lydia hefted a bottle of wolfsbane mixture in each hand.

Stiles tucked the handwritten recipe back inside his grimoire for safekeeping. “You always tell me to stick to my strengths.”

Passing him the final crate, Lydia huffed. Her annoyed look was betrayed by a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“I meant you should stick to your wards and leave the chemistry to me.”

“Are you saying I’m _not_ pretty?” Stiles asked, carefully packing away the remaining bottles.

He knew Lydia was rolling her eyes behind him and he grinned. She was probably even tapping her foot impatiently. Stiles had no idea people did that in real life before he started to spend most of his time with her. Middle school Stiles would have been ecstatic, but college Stiles was just amused.

Getting five crates of booze into the backseat of Lydia’s compact car wasn’t easy, but they managed. Roscoe was still in the shop for his post school year tune up, which meant that Lydia and Scott were taking turns playing Stiles’ chauffer. As annoying as it was having to depend on other people, Stiles enjoyed getting to catch up with his friends. Even if they had terrible taste in music.

By the time they arrived at the pack house, everyone else was already inside.

Lydia cut the engine before saying, “Stiles and I carried everything out to the car. Maybe some people with superhuman strength could carry their own alcohol into the house.”

Although she kept her voice at a normal speaking volume, someone must’ve been listening. Seconds later, the front door opened and their packmates spilled out onto the lawn. Scott got there first, easily stacking two of the crates to carry into the house. Stiles muttered _show off_ under his breath, laughing when he saw the sheepish look on his friend’s face.

Once all of the crates had been taken – and Derek had definitely confiscated Erica’s on the way back inside – Stiles swung out of the passenger seat. He waited as Lydia adjusted the tarps in the backseat, making sure everything was covered. Drunk people plus leather upholstery did not equal good things. And since the house wasn’t completely finished, there were going to be drunk people in need of a ride home.

“Definitely a change of pace,” he said, as Lydia locked up the car, tarps arranged to her satisfaction.

“Do you mean being DD for our friends who can’t get drunk?” she asked. “Or worrying about alcohol induced vomiting rather than wolfsbane poisoning?”

Stiles snorted. “Touché.”

He reached for her arm without prompting, helping her up the stairs to the house. She was so careful not to show weakness in front of the ‘wolves, but he knew her ankle wasn’t back to 100%. He’d broken his two years ago falling down the dorm stairs, so he could relate to the lingering pain and stiffness. Though stairs weren’t nearly as good of a story as fighting off an entire flock of harpies single-handed.

At the top of the steps, Lydia shrugged his hand off with a grateful smile. Team Human (or, more accurately, Team No-Super-Healing), had to stick together.

Inside the house was chaos. Allison was acting as bartender, mixing wolfsbane liquor with various chasers and other alcohols. Kira sat across from her at the breakfast bar, watching with gooey eyes as she sliced limes with deadly precision.

“Aw, damnit.” Isaac passed his untouched drink over to Erica. “I just got called in.”

He stopped to hug Kira, kissing her forehead and whispering something in her ear before clapping Allison on the shoulder.

“You’re free from DD duty. I’ll be back to help Lydia and Stiles drunk-wrangle after my shift.”

Allison pouted for a moment before pointing at Stiles. “You’re the bartender now. I’ll have an Irish Mule.”

Stiles sputtered, protests dying on his tongue. He could do gin and tonic. Maybe vodka cran. But anything more involved was a mystery.

“We’ve got this. You just relax.” Lydia nudged Allison out of the way of the counter, already scanning over the bottles lining the counter and the others currently on ice in the sink.

The front door slammed, signaling Isaac had taken off for his shift at the hospital. He followed in Melissa’s footsteps and became a nurse, but being a newbie meant shitty shifts and getting called in last minute.

Under Lydia’s careful instruction, Stiles chopped up limes and blended ice for margaritas. They worked together seamlessly, rather like when they joined forces for combative spells. It wasn’t until after two enthusiastic renditions of _Happy Birthday_ that the demand let up. Because, surprising exactly no one, the werewolves turned out to have fairly high tolerances.

But then, they’d reached the silly point of drunkenness. Even Boyd was affected, curled up against the arm of the couch and giggling quietly. Kira had plastered herself to his side, watching Cora and Erica wrestle while Allison and Scott acted as referees. And the final musketeer was sitting on the floor by their feet, carefully arranging the change they’d unearthed from between the couch cushions.

Stiles watched as Derek furrowed his eyebrows, then added a penny to an uneven stack of dimes and nickels. Clearly, he wasn’t sorting by size or color, but he was engrossed nonetheless.

“My girlfriend is the prettiest person in the world.” Kira said, wrapping her arms around Boyd’s neck for balance.

Boyd nodded, making Kira sway on her knees. “Erica is the prettiest.”

Across the room, Cora took advantage of the distraction and sat on Erica. She made no move to push her off, just stayed on the floor while blushing to the roots of her blonde hair.

“I love her hair. It’s so pretty,” Kira continued. “And her voice. But mostly her eyes.”

Then Allison was blushing, said eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

“Erica has pretty hair. Like dandelions. Or butter?” Boyd paused, thinking. “And her eyes are the prettiest brown. Like Beacon Creek in the spring.”

Stiles covered a laugh with an unconvincing cough. Derek froze, knocking over one of his piles.

“No,” Derek said, the first word he’d uttered since he started drinking. “You’re both wrong.”

Kira blinked slowly, not quite focusing on Derek. “No one has eyes prettier than Allison’s.”

“Or Erica’s.” Boyd added, shifting a little so Kira wasn’t strangling him.

Derek shook his head, face solemn. “Stiles has the prettiest eyes. They look like sunshine. And honey.”

Boyd and Kira made considering hums, the expressions on their faces so similar that Stiles would have laughed if he wasn’t busy choking on air.

Luckily, he was saved from having to respond.

“Wow.” Isaac stood in the front hallway, surveying the damage.

Erica was still sprawled on the floor, Cora perched on her lower back. Allison was sitting nearby, beside Scott who’d lost his fight with gravity. His arms were outstretched, hugging the ground as he muttered, “stop the world I wanna get off.”

Derek was straightening his coin piles and Boyd was in the process of dozing off against Kira. Stiles dried his hands off on the towel he’d tucked into his belt.

“Crazy night,” he offered. Between serving drinks and cleaning up after his stumbling friends, he hadn’t sat down all evening. Lydia’s ankle was probably killing her.

Isaac nodded, still looking shocked by the scene. He carefully stepped over one of Erica’s legs, nudging first her and then Scott with his foot.

“Come on. You’re coming home with me.”

Scott whined and tightened his hold, claws digging into the carpet.

Isaac sighed, prodding him harder. “Up you get. Someone’s gonna have to peel you off the bathroom floor tomorrow.”

Rolling away, Scott covered his eyes with his hands. “Noooooo.”

“And make you a hangover breakfast.” Isaac grabbed one of Scott’s arms and hefted him over one shoulder.

Lydia had more success, coaxing Cora off of Erica with kisses. Cora went readily, frowning when she stumbled.

Stiles was just rounding up the last of the dishes when Isaac waved from the door.

“See you tomorrow?”

He made quite the spectacle, Scott draped over his shoulder and clinging to his waist. And it looked like Boyd was leaning most of his weight into him, head resting between Isaac’s shoulder blades.

“Tomorrow,” Stiles agreed. “Good luck.”

Lydia wasn’t far behind, though Allison and Kira had to pause and make out every few seconds which hindered their progress. Cora just hovered, watching Lydia like the overprotective werewolf girlfriend that she was.

“I hate to ask this but…” Lydia batted at Cora’s hand while she tried to sneakily drain some of her pain.

Stiles tugged the towel free and tossed it over the edge of the empty sink. “It’s okay. You take the girls and I’ll take the grump.”

Derek huffed from the other room and Stiles could see his petulant eyebrows without even having to look.

“We’re leaving?” Kira looked devastated.

Lydia sighed. “Oh no.”

Then Stiles found himself with a distraught kitsune squeezing him to death.

“Hey there, birthday girl.” He pushed her tangled hair away from her face and kissed her temple. “Careful with the ribs, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She sniffled into his shirt, then nodded. “Love you, Stiles.”

“Love you too.” Stiles stepped away. “Drink water, okay?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of your drunk ass often enough. I have it down to a science.”

“Hey now,” Stiles said, good-naturedly. “Someone has to mother-hen since Derek’s down for the count.”

Hearing his name, Derek bounded into the room and wrapped his arms around Stiles’ middle.

While he was distracted, Lydia ushered the three other girls out the door.

“Put ice on that ankle!” Stiles shouted, as the latch clicked shut.

\---

He lasted an hour before he called Lydia.

“This better be good.” She sounded tired, which reminded him it was well after three in the morning.

“Shit, sorry I’ll just-”

“Stiles, you need to breathe,” Lydia said, fully awake, voice bleeding concern. “That’s it. Take some deep breaths and then tell me what’s wrong.”

He obeyed automatically, lungs already aching from hyperventilation.

“Good, you’re doing great Stiles. Just answer me yes or no okay?”

The soothing tone drained some of the tension from his muscles and Stiles sank against the bathroom door with a sigh that could’ve been an affirmative.

“Are you safe?”

He made another affirmative noise.

“Good. Is Derek having a reaction to the wolfsbane?”

Stiles didn’t say anything, not sure how to proceed.

“Give me five minutes.” There was a rustling in the background, like she was slipping out of bed. Someone, probably Cora, mumbled something Stiles couldn’t hear.

A door clicked shut and Lydia was back. “Can you tell me what’s going on? So I know what to bring?”

“He…” Stiles thumped his back against the door in frustration. “You know how my power is linked to intent?”

The other end of the line was silent as Lydia processed the statement.

“Lyds, I think I made him fall in love with me.”

“Stiles, you have to breathe,” Lydia commanded. “Now listen to me. The spells that we did in no way could have caused that reaction. There was hardly any magic involved as it was.”

“So you don’t think…?”

Lydia huffed. “No. I _know_ that you would never do this to Derek. Even unintentionally.”

“How can you know?” A million disjointed images, soaked in blood and darkness, clouded his mind.

“It’s easy.” She sighed, breath crackling over the speaker. “You love him too much to do something like that.”

Stiles felt his heart lurch. How she knew, he had no idea. But he really wasn’t shocked.

Lydia gave him a moment to calm down before asking, “Better?”

“Yeah.” He was surprised to find that he meant it. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. I mean it.” Her voice was deadly serious, and Stiles couldn’t help the relief he felt. They were cut from the same cloth, cunning and smart and loyal to the end.

“Love you, Lyds.”

“I’ve told you not to call me that,” she said, sounding fond. “Love you too. Now get some sleep, okay?”

Stiles hung up and took a moment to gather himself. He wasn’t exactly proud of locking himself in the bathroom and freaking out over an excessively clingy Derek, but at least he was 90% sure it wasn’t due to magical mind control.

Though the matter-of-fact tone that Lydia had used was something to think about later. She only used it when she was talking about known facts. The sky was blue, molybdenum always had forty-two protons, and Stiles was in love with Derek.

Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, Stiles grabbed onto the bathroom counter and hauled himself to his feet.

Derek was hovering just outside the door, looking like a kicked puppy. Stiles couldn’t stand it.

“Com’ere, big guy,” he said, opening his arms.

He was immediately engulfed in a werewolf embrace, coughing a little at the pressure on his abused lungs.

Derek immediately loosened his grip, looking devastated. “Sorry. Sorry. You act so much like a wolf I forget sometimes. Sorry.”

“Hey,” Stiles stepped back far enough to see his face. “I’m okay. You don’t need to apologize.”

“But you were scared. Your heart was funny and you locked me out and then I hurt you.”

Stiles sighed. They all needed therapy. “I’m really fine, I was just worried that _you_ weren’t okay.” _So much therapy_. “That’s why I was scared.”

Derek deflated a little, then went back to scenting Stiles.

“As much as I’m enjoying the hugs, we should probably get you to bed.” Stiles’ voice was rougher than usual.

Grumbling in a way that sounded petulant, Derek leaned more heavily against him. “Stay.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

With that assurance, Derek went along willingly, letting Stiles push him into bed and tug the covers over him.

But when Stiles turned to leave, Derek caught his hand. “You said stay.”

“Yeah, big guy,” Stiles frowned. When did that start sounding like a pet-name? “I’ll just be downstairs.”

“There’s only one bed?” Derek sounded confused. “You’re too tall for the couch.”

Which was true. And if Stiles was reading everything correctly, he probably wasn’t the only one with feelings.

“Alright cuddle-wolf. Let’s get some sleep.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta, no proofreading, no gods, no masters.

The volcano erupted, spewing ash and fountains of lava. It was pretty, even though it seemed set on burying Stiles alive. But he was warm and comfortable, which made him surprisingly okay with that outcome. Then the mountain crushing his ribs shifted and he jerked awake.

“Stop. Moving,” a familiar voice grit out.

And suddenly Stiles was transported from the doomed city of Herculaneum back to Derek’s bed, where a hungover werewolf was squashing him into the mattress. He really needed to stop going on documentary binges. They made his waking dreams even stranger than usual.

Wriggling onto his back, Stiles let Derek’s head fall into the hollow of his shoulder. He scratched his fingers through his short hair, smiling when Derek relaxed into the touch.

“How’re you feeling?”

Derek made a grumbling noise, shoving his face deeper into Stiles’ armpit.

Stiles indulged himself a little longer, basking in the early morning sunlight with Derek acting as a grounding weight on top of him. He brushed his lips over the top of Derek’s head and murmured, “You’re gonna have to let me up so I can get you some water.”

It took some coaxing, but eventually Derek rolled to the side, allowing Stiles to slide out from under him.

“Be right back.” Stiles grabbed the empty glass from the nightstand.

The only response was a grunt as Derek burrowed into the sheets. Stiles tried not to linger, but the sight of Derek so vulnerable and grumpy in a weirdly adorable way was hard to resist.

When he returned with the water and some werewolf-strength painkillers – curtesy of Lydia – Derek was almost back to sleep. Stiles brushed a hand over the shoulder closest to him.

“Hey there, grumpy pants. You’ll feel better if you drink this.”

It took the both of them to get Derek sitting upright against the headboard. He took the pills without more than a glance and downed the water in three long gulps.

Stiles tore his eyes away, distracted by the bob of Derek’s throat. “So, do you want me to make breakfast? Or would you rather sleep more?”

Eyes that looked infinitely more alert than before locked onto him, like Derek was registering his presence for the first time.

“Why are you here?”

Confused, Stiles said, “You were drunk. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“But why here?” Derek gestured at his bed.

Stiles felt the floor drop out from under him. “You don’t remember last night at all, do you?”

“Of course I…” Derek stopped, realization dawning. “I don’t remember everyone leaving.”

Pasting on a smirk, Stiles pushed himself off the bed. “Sounds like you had fun then.”

Derek was still frowning at his hands, as if they could help bring back his missing memories.

“Come on. I have to meet my Dad at the station, but I’ll make you breakfast before I go.”

For some reason, Derek nodding like he hadn’t registered the lie was the last straw. Stiles was so going to need ice cream after this. Ice cream and stupid movies and possibly video games. Not like any of that would help, but he had to pretend.

Luckily, the fridge was well stocked with bacon, eggs, and potatoes. Stiles heated everything up, even taking the time to make the eggs over-easy like Derek preferred. He was so fucked.

Setting a mug of _very_ strong coffee on the table next to where Derek had his head cradled in his arms, Stiles took a deep breath.

“Alright, you should be all set. But call me if you need anything. Or maybe Lydia. Probably Lydia.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “Anyway. Gotta dash. Busy busy busy, you know how it goes.”

“You’re leaving?” Derek picked up his head, looking dazed.

Stiles must have imagined the disappointment in his voice. “Things to do. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Right.” Derek frowned at him, like he knew something was wrong. “Thanks for breakfast?”

Unable to drop the fake smile, Stiles said, “No problem. See you around.”

He was out of the loft before Derek had a chance to say goodbye.

\---

“Seriously Stiles? This is just…” Lydia glances over the room, taking in the empty pizza boxes and takeout containers piled on the counter of Stiles’ dingy apartment. “…pathetic. Really sad and pathetic.”

Instead of moving from where he was permanently welded to the couch, Stiles tugged a pillow over his face. If he couldn’t see Lydia, then she couldn’t see him. Plus, he and Scott were up until six in the morning playing videogames and Stiles really wasn’t up for having this talk on less than two hours of sleep.

The couch shifted as Lydia curled up next to his fuzzy-sock clad feet. “He misses you.”

Stiles made a noncommittal grunt into the pillow.

“Look. As someone who has wooed, dated, and _married_ a Hale, let me offer you some insight.”

Lydia pinched his calf, taking his indignant squawk as evidence that he was listening.

“Derek is a werewolf. And as a born wolf, he is incredibly attuned to his senses. So, imagine that you had your hearing, sight, sense of smell – everything – taken away, then woke up the next day with zero memories, and one of your best friends won’t even speak to you.”

Peeking over the pillow, Stiles pulled his legs out of pinching range. “But he hasn’t tried to speak to me either.”

“You are an idiot.” Lydia rose gracefully to her feet, looking incredibly out of place against the horrid pea green walls and shag carpet. “Clean up, take a shower, and talk to Derek. Lord knows he doesn’t need any more abandonment issues.”

She was almost to the door when Stiles whispered, “Lyds. He doesn’t want me.”

“Idiot,” Lydia muttered, spinning back around. “He woke up, with no memory of the night before and his first hangover _ever_ , to you acting all out of sorts. I know you two are both emotionally stunted but seriously?” Her face softened. “You deserve to be happy, Stiles. But first, you need to sit down and have an adult conversation that both parties are capable of remembering.”

Stiles grumbled, extracting himself from the nest he’d made of the couch.

“And take a shower!” Lydia called back, as the door closed behind her.

\---

The kitchen in Stiles’ apartment had never been cleaner. The cheap laminate flooring practically gleamed and there wasn’t a pizza crumb in sight. The bathroom had received a similar scrub down and the mountain of laundry accumulating on his bedroom floor was all washed and put away. When he asked his landlady to borrow a vacuum, Stiles thought poor Ms. Beck was going to faint.

But once he’d taken the last overfilled bag to the dumpster, Stiles was faced with the gut-dropping realization that he no longer had an excuse to put off talking to Derek any longer. He climbed into the Jeep with the same trepidation as a convict approaching the gallows. But Lydia was right. Derek was one of his best friends and Stiles didn’t want to lose him.

And with that in mind, he turned the key in the ignition.

By the time he pulled into the familiar drive, Stiles had almost turned away twice. For some reason, the idea of facing down another flock of harpies seemed more appealing than walking up to Derek’s door and ringing the bell. As if an alpha werewolf could be unaware of an unwelcome presence in his territory.

To his surprise, the door opened immediately. Kira leaned against the frame, arms crossed and looking incredibly intimidating for only being five feet tall.

“Hey…” Stiles trailed off, eyes landing on Boyd hovering in the hallway. His posture was less threatening than Kira’s, but he looked more cautious than Stiles had seen since high school.

Kira glared, the expression unfamiliar on her face. “What do you want?”

“Is Derek around?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Kira,” Boyd admonished, easily communicating with a quirked eyebrow and jerk of the head.

She huffed, then turned back to Stiles. “For some reason he wants to see you.”

“Great, thanks – ”

“If I see him like this again, I will rip your balls off,” Kira interrupted, “No questions asked.”

Stiles gulped. Allison must have been giving her girlfriend lessons on how to be terrifying, because he was just about ready to piss himself.

Luckily, he was saved by Boyd taking Kira by the shoulder and guiding her through the door. “You’re our friend Stiles,” he said, grip still firm on Kira as she frowned at him. “But if you hurt Derek, we’re gonna have a problem.”

The mistrust aimed his direction was all it took for Stiles to snap.

“Y’know what. I already had Lydia on my ass this morning, I don’t need to lose all of my friends – _all of my pack_ – in the divorce.” Stiles barely recognized his own voice, his breathing ragged and almost painful. “Tell Derek he’s an asshole and this is low. If he doesn’t want to see me, he doesn’t have to. He’s not the one who had his heart ripped out and stomped on.”

Kira’s eyes widened, looking contrite as she reached out to touch his arm. Stiles flinched away, backing toward the Jeep. He had an emergency bag in the backseat. All he needed was to text his dad and he could be in Oregon before sunrise. At least his former advisor would be happy to see him.

Stiles was still working through the logistics of the trip, keys clenched in a shaking hand, when he realized Kira and Boyd were gone. He rested his head against the cool glass of the driver’s side window and sighed.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take some time off, go to Oregon, check on Deaton,” he didn’t turn to see if Derek was listening, just gripped his keys tighter and closed his eyes. “Lydia can do almost everything, so she can fill in until you find a replacement emissary. Just-” he took a steadying breath. “Just please let me say goodbye to Scott. And my Dad.”

“Stiles.”

And wow, Derek had gotten a lot closer than Stiles was expecting. His shoulders tensed, spark gathering at his fingertips just in case.

“Hey,” Derek’s voice was gentle. “Stiles. No one has to go anywhere. I don’t know what I did, but I promise I don’t want you to leave.”

Stiles snorted. He should have just stayed at home, buried in pizza boxes.

A feather-light touch brushed against his hand and Stiles jolted. His spark stayed firmly reigned in, more evidence that Lydia was right and even unintentionally, he couldn’t hurt Derek. Stiles turned his hand into the touch, letting Derek wind their fingers together and pull him away from the Jeep.

Derek watched him carefully. “Are you okay to come inside?”

Stiles nodded, relieved when he didn’t let go of his hand. In fact, he didn’t let go until Stiles was safely on the couch, surrounded by pillows and soft blankets.

“Stay,” Derek said, and Stiles’ stomach lurched.

“Don’t worry, big-guy. I’m not going anywhere.”

An odd look crossed Derek’s face. “You said that. Before.”

Letting himself sink into the nest, Stiles shrugged. “So did you.”

\---

When he opened his eyes again, Derek was curling into the other side of the couch, a mug in each hand. He smiled tentatively, offering one of the mugs to Stiles.

Wriggling his way out of the crush of pillows, Stiles accepted the mug and sighed when he felt the warmth seep into his bones.

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles glanced over, surprised.

It took a few seconds for Derek to tear his eyes away from the steam rising off his coffee. “About the other night. And for Kira and Boyd.” He dropped his gaze back to the mug and smiled wryly. “They’re overprotective. But to be fair, I haven’t had a lot of luck with relationships.”

“Relationships.” The word didn’t process. “We’re not in a relationship.”

Derek sighed. “I know, Stiles.”

“Then why…?” Stiles frowned, sipping at his coffee as his brain tried to come up with an explanation besides the one that couldn’t possibly be true.

Abruptly, Derek set down his mug. “I’m a grown-up Stiles. You don’t have to let me down easy.”

“Hang on,” Stiles shoved away the pillow wall dividing the couch. “Are you saying that _you_ want to be in a relationship with _me_?”

Derek rolled his eyes, but Stiles knew him well enough to spot the hurt and disappointment in the lines of his body. Setting his mug next to Derek’s, Stiles slid down the couch and snagged one of his hands from where it was worrying at one of the fluffy blankets.

Confused, Derek glanced down at their entwined hands and then up to Stiles’ face.

“So, I might have spent the last few days on my couch throwing myself a pity party. An ice cream, take out, and videogame pity party. Because the guy that I’m-,” Stiles choked on the words and tried again. “The guy I possibly have feelings for got drunk and said some stuff that made me think he also had feelings. But then the next morning he didn’t remember anything.”

“That’s why you had your ‘heart ripped out and stomped on’?”

Stiles shrugged. “I haven’t had a lot of luck with relationships either.” He laughed bitterly. “I’m self-aware enough to know that I’m not the easiest to be around.”

Nightmares, inexplicable blood stains, strange hobbies, the occult… All reasons Stiles’ significant others had run for the hills. The only date he’d gone on with someone ‘in-the-know’ had ended with the reformed hunter hugging him and telling him to either get with Derek or get over him.

“And I am?” Derek asked, eyebrow raised.

The tentative hope was back, wings unfurling in his chest. But Stiles knew from experience the fall hurt so much more than the anticipation. He stamped down the feeling and mimicked Derek’s eyebrow. “Maybe we should just be difficult together.”

Derek smiled softly, ignoring his snarky tone. “I’d like that.”

His honesty took the breath right out of Stiles’ lungs.

“Me too.”

The sound of someone tumbling down the stairs effectively shattered whatever spell had fallen over them. “Congrats guys,” Erica called, dragging a sleepy Isaac behind her, “but we’re getting out of here. Let us know when it’s safe to come back.”

Stiles laughed, tucking his head into the curve of Derek’s throat. “Where were we?”

He could feeling Derek’s smile pressed against the top of his head, strong arms wrapping tight and holding him close.

“We’re right at the beginning.”

“Sap,” Stiles said, straightening up enough to brush a soft kiss against Derek’s lips. “But the beginning sounds like the perfect place to start.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rebloggable post and edit [HERE!](https://theproblemwithstardust.tumblr.com/post/179122813122/for-ravenwolf36-who-is-one-of-the-nicest-people-i)


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